


Let it Snow

by endoftheziam



Category: One Direction (Band), liam payne - Fandom, zayn malik - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Artist Zayn, Christmas, College, College AU, Depressed Zayn, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt Liam, Isolated, Liam - Freeform, Liam Payne - Freeform, Library, Library AU, M/M, POV Liam, POV Multiple, POV Zayn Malik, Pining Zayn, Smut, Stranded, Stranded Together, Top Liam, University, University Student Liam Payne, University Student Zayn Malik, Winter, Writing, Zayn Malik - Freeform, Ziam Fic Exchange 2k17, and they were in the library, based loosely on my experience navigating tam's campus when it's closed, bc I am SAD and I need LOVE goddammit, breakup sophiam, college students, it will be explicit at some point but not right now, kind of, let it snow, living vicariously through other people's problems, lonely, post breakup liam, quarantine au, snow in texas, this is from a christmas fic I'm still working on, zayn, zayn and liam are both lonely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endoftheziam/pseuds/endoftheziam
Summary: Liam and Zayn are stranded on campus for Christmas. Liam just got dumped by his girlfriend, and Zayn has created a rift with his family. Can they find some warmth on the loneliest of nights?Who knows? Nothing shakes things up like a good old-fashioned snowstorm. Especially in Texas
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Larry Stylinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Ziam - Relationship
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	1. Snowfall

Chapter 1: Snowfall 

“I just don’t see a future for us. I don’t see this going anywhere. And it’s not fair, and we both need to move on.”  
Liam watched the snow fall, her voice a tinny whine in his ear.  
“Anyway, hope you’re good. I’d love to hang out whenever you’re back in town. Merry Christmas.”  
There was a soft sigh, the one that Liam kept replaying over and over again, trying to find meaning. Was that regret? Remorse?  
Did she feel a hint of what she had done? Then a click. Finality. It was really over.  


The snow fell thicker now, the flakes sticking on the ground, a blanket of white.  
Sophia was the kind of person that thought snow was magic. She’d be thrilled by this, the magic and mystery of it all.  
For a moment, even though she was hundreds of miles away, nothing more than a voicemail on a telephone, he turned to see her reaction. The way her big brown eyes would sparkle, the joy that poured out…  
Then Liam remembered that he’d probably never see that again.  
The dorm was empty, and it was Christmas Eve.  
There was nothing but snow.

***

Zayn was a big fan of Star Wars, which might have explained why he was on the Skywalk.  
It apparently had been named with absolutely no idea of what it referenced, which was even more hilarious. And alluring.  
The Skywalk connected the library to the Annex, a short tunnel suspended in the air with spiral staircases on either side, lined with windows, the fluorescent light a beacon in the growing darkness, and just enough of a thin floor that you could feel the empty air underneath, that you nearly floated, that it might be just a little bit dangerous to stay up so high, and not move.  


Zayn let his music roll over him, closing his eyes. He sometimes liked to draw like this. Sometimes, music made him see songs in colors, and he’d create scenes from them.  
This one, however, was different. He was drawing the snow, but as the song continued to go on, as the music built to a crescendo and came crashing down, the artists’ voice at once tortured and thin and full of life, screaming to get out, the snow got tints of red.  
Zayn was drawing without thinking about it, which was the best way. Sometimes he got too caught up in the technique, in the critics. He thought too hard about who it was for, who would like it, who might post a mean comment because it wasn’t their exact vision for a character.  
Zayn sketched out the pointed, pale face, the scarf with a Slytherin mark on the edge, flapping in the wind….  
If he never posted this, would it still matter to him?  
_A tree falls in the forest… _  
__

Suddenly, the music was interrupted by a loud beeping noise. WINTER ADVISORY. EXTREME ICE AND SNOW. CAUTION IS ADVISED. ROADS ARE CLOSED.  


Zayn exhaled through his nose. _Wasn’t like I was going anywhere, anyway. _  
He still couldn’t believe his father had said those words, just a few days ago.  
Standing in the kitchen of the house where his mother had taught him to cook, where he’d helped his sisters with their makeup (amid thousands of YouTube tutorials), where he and his father had shared Zayn’s first beer, and Zayn had come out to him, the alcohol slurring his breath…  
“You are not welcome here if you choose this, Zayn.”  
“Dad—”  
“This is not what I raised you to be. You will not starve for a dream.”  
“I can’t be a lawyer, Dad. It’s not what I want.”  
“And does it matter what you want? You are young. Sometimes things are bigger than you, Zayn. Look around you—” His father gestured to the pristine kitchen, the photos on the walls, the stainless steel coffeemaker and the kitchen island that had cost a fortune to install. “You only believe you can handle having nothing because you have never experienced what it means to have nothing.”  
Zayn’s jaw had twitched, but he stood his ground. “I already put in the paperwork,” he said. “I start an internship with the gallery in the spring.”  
“Then you are no longer welcome in this house.” His father’s voice was eerily calm, his mustache barely trembling. Zayn looked desperately for warmth in his father’s eyes, but he found only icy contempt.  
“Dad—you can’t mean that.”  
“Go back to school, Zayn. And don’t come home until you’ve changed your mind.”  
Zayn could feel tears starting in his eyes, but he tried to hold them back. “Dad, I’m never going to be happy doing something else. Can’t you—”  
“Get out.” His father turned away, and Zayn knew that it was over. __

Zayn had three missed calls from Waliyha. She’d left voicemails, too, and sent texts. She’d been trying to bridge the gap between them.  
Zayn glanced at them, then closed out of his messages. He couldn’t read them like this. He was still angry, so angry that it was like a living thing inside him, a parasite staving off hunger and exhaustion and sadness.  
He hadn’t really slept since he arrived back on campus. From his vantage point, high in the Skywalk in the middle of the snowstorm, he felt utterly alone and apart.  
He felt like the last man on Earth. 

***

Liam hadn’t really meant to throw his phone in the snow.  
It had been an impulse decision, a moment of weakness, a brief eclipse of insanity across a mind that, Liam thought, had been handling the breakup fairly well up until that point.  
He’d been scrolling through Sophia’s Instagram. She’d already deleted pictures of the two of them, three years of prom and homecoming and goofing around in class. Three years of anniversaries and Valentine’s Day and New Year’s Eve,. Instead she’d put up pictures with her new friends. People Liam didn’t know, with too-bright eyes and delighted expressions. People who were hearing all her jokes now, with a thousand stories and references that Liam would never understand.  
The longer they were apart, the more the distance yawned between them.  
How could someone be such an integral part of your life, a person you spoke to every day, who knew all the deepest parts of you, and then be gone? It didn’t make sense.  
None of it made sense.  
Liam hadn’t deleted any pictures of the two of them together. He could barely even look at them. It was like stabbing himself repeatedly in the gut—it hurt every time, a sharp pain that took his breath away and brought tears to his eyes.  
And it was in the middle of one of these pains that it had happened.  
Liam yanked open the window, threw his phone into the storm, and watched it fall into the packed snow below.  
There was a brief moment of stillness, where there had been nothing but the snow falling, the cold curl of the air as it entered the suffocating heat of the dorm, where Liam’s mind had felt comfortingly and refreshingly blank—  
And then he yelled, “What the FUCK!”  
Liam yanked the window shut, grabbed his keys, and dashed down the stairs. Luckily, he only lived on the second floor, so his phone might be okay. He might not have just lost his only source of entertainment and communication for the next week, his contact to his parents, his friends, he might not have just completely _fucked up his life _.  
Liam’s phone had a black case on it, so he figured it would be easy to spot in the snow, but when he got outside, shivering because he’d forgotten his jacket, it was to see it all—  
Empty.  
A blanket of white.  
Sound muffled, a soft rustle, as the snow continued to hit the Earth.  
Liam raced to the space of ground beneath his window and scrabbled desperately, his fingers already starting to go numb, searching for that black rectangle was his entire life—  
His fingers caught on something hard and metallic, and he nearly cried with relief. Until he pulled the phone out of the snow.  
The screen was black, and spiderwebbed with cracks.  
Desperately, Liam pushed on the home button. Held it down to reset it. Wiped it on the remaining dry part of his hoodie and brought it out again, hands shaking.  
Nothing.  
Liam felt hot tears burn at the corners of his eyes. Nothing was going right. There was the first snowstorm in Texas in a hundred years, and he was completely alone.  
Utterly, indefensibly lost.  
Liam looked around the campus, hoping for a sign, some way he could just have a tiny bit more hope.  
There was the Academic Building, dark and moody without its cheery affliction of lights.  
All the other buildings in were dark, too.  
But—wait.  
About fifty feet ahead, Liam could see a gleam of light.  
The library.  
He thought back to the freshman manual he’d barely skimmed. Didn’t the library have a cell phone repair place? With manuals and tools to repair your tech?  
Sure, there wouldn’t be anyone there since it was Christmas Eve, but the library was open, right? It had to be open…  
Shivering, his fingers stuffed into his armpits, Liam began his trek.  
And the snow fell. __

____

____

***

Zayn didn’t notice the figure kicking the side of the Annex at first.  
He was a blur of dark motion, difficult to see in the snowflakes that still descended.  
Also, Zayn was trying to capture the contour of Draco’s smirk as he grinned at Harry. There had to be a hint of knowingness, an awareness that Harry was already caught, even if he didn’t think he was….  
So he’d been preoccupied, until the guy had started kicking the annex doors.  
From his angle, Zayn could see only a black beanie and a hoodie, sneakers that must have been completely soaked from the snow. Didn’t this kid have boots?  
It was hard to even tell the person’s gender by what they were wearing, but Zayn figured it was probably a guy, just by the way he stood. He squinted. There was something about the way the figure moved, the set of his shoulders…  
Zayn’s fingers itched, and envisioned sketching those broad shoulders with a pencil, filling in the dips of shading and the outlines of muscles that no doubt flexed and slid under the coat. Then he imagined running his fingers—  
Zayn jumped, shaking himself out of his reverie. The last thing this poor guy needed was some voyeur fantasizing about him.  
_This is full serial-killer behavior. God, I need to get out more._

____

____

But the figure _did _look helpless. Like he had no idea that a path to his salvation lay right above his head.  
The figure had stopped kicking the wall and wandered over to the bench where students smoked in between classes. He placed his head in his hands, his shoulders wracked with…sobs? Or shivers?  
Zayn got to his feet. The least he could do was make sure the boy got inside. It was freezing, and Francine, the break librarian, had already gone home for the night. She’d only let Zayn in because he charmed her with drawings. And because she knew, by the mere fact of his being here, that he probably didn’t have anywhere else to go.  
“I guess this makes you the librarian.” Francine had said, winding her scarf around her neck and fluffing her still-spectacular head of hair. “Don’t do anything stupid, young man. I want this place pristine when I return. You hear me, young man?” she fixed him with a beady eye. “Pristine.”  
“Yes ma’am.” Zayn said solemnly.  
Francine tipped her head to the side. “You sure I can’t tempt you to come over for Christmas? I live just on the other side of the quad, and it’s so upsetting to see someone alone over the holiday.”  
“I’m not alone.” Zayn rolled his eyes. “I told you, I’m Skyping with my family.” This was an outright lie, but the last thing Zayn wanted to do was get into an argument about his future and his family with somebody else. “And we’re Muslim.”  
Francine put a hand on his cheek, lightly. “Good boy.” She said softly. “But you are always welcome.”  
“Merry Christmas, Francine.” Zayn huffed.  
“Have a good holiday, Zayn.” Francine swept out of the lobby, leaving nothing but the faint whiff of old perfume behind her. __

____

____

Francine wouldn’t want Zayn to let someone stay outside the Annex, in the cold, in distress. She’d consider it un Christmas-like.  
“It is my duty as a librarian to help this man.” Zayn said aloud, then cringed.  
The guy was still sitting on the bench, shivering.  
Zayn sighed. Then he tapped on the glass.  
No response.  
Zayn tapped harder, feeling like a fish in a tank.  
Still nothing.  
“Fine.” Zayn muttered. “Don’t move.” He clambered to his feet, racing to the spiral staircase that led down into the Annex. 

Zayn’s father wasn’t something most people understood. Unlike people whose parents had selfish designs for keeping them from doing what they wanted, living vicariously through them or simply needing control, Zayn’s father truly had the purest intentions. He simply believed that family should be the number one priority in someone’s life. Family was the center of your universe.  
The worst part was, Zayn agreed with him. He agreed with him, and he wanted to draw for the rest of his life, and he was going to starve and destroy every inch of his father’s respect for him, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.  
_I didn’t choose this. _Zayn thought at the specter of his father in his head. _I have to do this. It pulls me in. I can’t escape it. I’ve tried, so many times. And you won’t listen, because you’ve never had that. You’ve never had something that’s air to you, something that becomes the reason you’re put on the Earth, the only thing that keeps you— ___  
The boy’s head went up. He turned around. Zayn waved his arms frantically, gesturing to the door that he held propped open with his foot. “Come inside!”  
Still covering his face with his arms, the boy lurched to his feet. He stumbled toward Zayn, finally looking fully at him as he stepped beneath the awning.  
His eyes met Zayn’s—  
“Liam?”__


	2. The Quarterback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn tries to give Liam a cup of coffee. It takes about 20 minutes.

“Liam Payne?”  


The boy in the long black trenchcoat was looking at Liam like he’d seen a ghost.  
Liam felt something similar. An odd sense of déjà vu.  
Why did he look so familiar? Why did this somehow make sense?  
There was something about him…the shadow of his jaw, the length of his eyelashes (it looked like a snowflake or two had caught on them, they were so long).  
“Do I--know you?”  
The boy blinked, but he didn’t say a word. A shadow crossed his face, and he stepped back through the doors, holding one open so that Liam could pass through.  


Liam shivered even more violently, his body adjusting to the sudden blast of warm air that began to thaw him out.  
“You need to get some warm clothes.” The other boy said, still avoiding his gaze. “Here.”  
He vaulted over the circulation desk and ducked behind it. There was the sound of rummaging, a drawer slamming, and he emerged, holding a pair of dark grey sweatpants and a Texas A&M hoodie. “They smell okay, and they’re warm at least.”  
Liam’s teeth were still chattering, but he tried to get the words out. “Do—y-y-you—”  
“You’ll need a hot drink, too.” The boy said, sliding the clothes across the desk’s smooth wooden surface. “There’s a Keurig up in the breakroom. I can make you some coffee—”  
“Who-who—”  
The boy finally snapped his head up. “You don’t remember me, right?” His voice shook a little.  
Liam shook his head.  
“Y’all played us in football.” The boy said. “Senior year. You were the quarterback, and you beat us seventy-two to zero.”  
Liam frowned. “You played football?” He looked the boy up and down. Liam wasn’t trying to be mean, but the boy was under six feet tall, with birdlike, prominent bones on his wrists. Thin build. There was no way he’d been able to hold his own at 5A playoffs. “For West?”  
The boy shook his head, a blush darkening his cheeks. Liam felt a sudden tug in his stomach. “I did the banners for the cheerleaders.”   
“Wait—the lion banner—that was you?”  
The boy’s eyes had dropped to the desk again. “You noticed?”  
“Of course I noticed.” Liam said. “That was fucking awesome.”  
“Thanks.” He looked back up at Liam, and Liam was struck by the depth of his eyes. Brown, with golden flecks in them. And though Liam’s eyes were brown, this boy’s eyes had—something to them. A certain depth.  


  
And with a flash of recognition, Liam remembered his name. “Zayn, right? You were one of the homecoming court. I ran past you on the sidelines—”  
“I was holding that banner,” Zayn nodded. “And I wasn’t on the court. I was just on Student Council.”  
“Oh.” 

  
There was a beat, neither boy looking closely at the other. Liam could feel a curious sensation in his chest, and he was remembering that night more clearly now, the vivid, magical nature of Zayn’s eyes when he’d looked at Liam, the way he could feel his eyes tracking him as he ran to the locker rooms, the sweat steaming in the cool night air--  
A smile tugged at the corner of Liam’s mouth. “How did you remember the name of a quarterback for a rival team, Zayn?”  
“I just—the school was pretty upset with you.” Zayn scratched one of his immaculate eyebrows. “You should have put in a mercy rule at least.”  
Liam tipped his head to the side, not even sure what he was doing. He just had a sudden urge to mercilessly tease Zayn, to get those blushes going, to watch him lick his lips when he was nervous, or trying to conjure up an answer…  
Liam hadn’t really been this eager to see someone riled up since Sophia.  
“So—coffee?”  
“Right.” The boy stood. “I can take care of that right now. You can change in the bathroom over there.”  
“Zayn?”  
“Yeah?”  
Liam took a breath. “Thank you.”  
Zayn let out a loud, shaky sigh. “I’ll just be right back with your coffee.”

***

Zayn’s hands were shaking so hard, he had to put down the coffee. It spilled over the countertop anyway, and it took him five minutes to hunt down a rag to wipe it up.  
_Liam Payne goes to my school. _  
_Liam Payne.___

_____ _

_____ _

  
Zayn felt like he was in the presence of a celebrity. He practically was—he and his best friend, Louis, had lusted over Liam from the sidelines for that entire game.  
During the game, it was hard to see him. Just the outline of an ass in a uniform, the glint of his eyes. But at halftime, it was obvious. Liam was hot.  
He’d been speaking to a newsperson, and his lips were tight and pink. He looked out of breath and nervous in the light, and he practically sprinted from the camera as soon as the interview ended.  
And then he’d jogged right past Zayn and Louis. They were walking the banner out to the center of the field, so the cheerleaders could hold it up for the court.  
  
Zayn, being gay, had never understood those movies where guys crashed their cars when a hot chick ran by. She’d be glistening with sweat, boobs bouncing, and the film would go to slow motion, and suddenly the hero had smashed his car into a tree.  
Zayn had found that so stupid before. And sexist.  
And then Liam had jogged by, nice and easy, almost lazy. Somehow barely even breathing hard, though sweat steamed off of him into the air. His hair was slicked to his head with it, and his eyes sparkled in the stadium lights.  
And then he’d said it.  
Offhand, in a single breath.   
“Nice banner.”  
And Zayn forgot how to walk. He’d just stood there, a roaring sound in his ears, his mind stuck replaying that scene over and over like a video on loop.   
His chest was tight, and his mouth was half-open.  
Finally, Louis smacked him on the arm. “Breathe.”  
Zayn coughed, and the spell was broken. He took several deep breaths, every fiber of his being straining to turn around, to catch another glimpse of that perfect ass as Liam retreated.  
_Slow. Fucking. Motion. _  
“Holy shit.” Zayn said.  
“I think I’m in love.” Louis agreed. “Don’t tell Harry.” __

__  
_ _

Zayn had never thought in a million years that he’d be facing the same quarterback, all alone, on Christmas Eve. It was insane.  
_Liam fucking Payne. _  
This was a disaster movie waiting to happen.  
High school quarterbacks weren’t gay. They were like, as far from the gay direction as you could go. Liam probably had so many girlfriends, he kept them on rotation. He probably didn’t even think of being gay as a possibility, other than that held by celebrities or people on television shows.  
And yet—  
_“How did you remember the quarterback of a rival team, Zayn?” _  
That teasing look, the sparkle in Liam’s eyes, the way they’d gone from being wide and mournful to a crinkled grin that scrunched up his nose…  
Fucking. Insane.  
Zayn was half-hard just thinking about it.  
Finally, Zayn managed to locate the rag. He wiped up the mess, then the entire counter for good measure. Francine would already be irritated that he raided her coffee stash—she kept it stocked behind the fridge, where the student workers wouldn’t find it.  
The coffee was cold, so Zayn stuck it in the microwave again. He considered for a moment whether Liam would like milk or sugar, whether he should break out the whipped cream that someone had left after a Christmas party—  
“Zayn?”  
Zayn turned around so quickly, he knocked the mug onto the floor, where it shattered. “Fuck, I—” Liam started forward his hands open in apology, but Zayn waved him away frantically. The last thing he needed was Liam standing close to him right now. He’d probably just collapse on the ground. “No—I’ll take care of it.”  
Zayn grabbed a broom from the corner and began to sweep up the pieces, stepping carefully to avoid ending up in the coffee. “I can make you more,” he said. “Just give me a sec.”  
He kept his eyes on the ground, but he could hear Liam’s footsteps as he walked over. "I said not to," Zayn muttered to himself, so low that he knew Liam wouldn't hear it. There was the sound of water being run out of the faucet, then Liam knelt with what looked like his own t-shirt in his hand. He mopped up the coffee, then tossed the shirt in the trash.  
“You didn’t have to—”  
Zayn began, his skin prickling from how close Liam was standing to him “That shirt was a gift from my girlfriend.” Liam shrugged. “It’s the most use it’ll ever have again.”  
“Oh—” Zayn swept the pieces into a dustpan and emptied them in the garbage. When he turned, around Liam was looking at him, his hands in his pockets. The sweatpants hung just a little too low on his hips, and there was a deep V-line on his pelvis that led down, with a trail of hair peeking out—  
Zayn averted his eyes. “Glad to see the clothes fit."  
“Oh.” There was a rustling, and when Zayn looked back, Liam’s pants had been drawn up. “Yeah. Thanks a lot. I can wash them and return them to you.”  
Zayn waved a hand in a futile attempt at nonchalance, then busied himself with the Keurig. _Don’t even look at him. Don’t even think about how he knows you were staring at his junk and how he looks so fucking-- _“Don’t worry about it. Whoever lost them probably won’t come looking anytime soon.”  
______

___For a few moments, there was only the percolating and drip of coffee as it splashed into a new mug.  
Finally, Liam spoke. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to fix a phone, would you?”  
Zayn adjusted the coffee mug beneath the spout, trying to buy time. _Do I just scream ‘nerd’ to him? _“What?”  
“Doesn’t the school have an IT service? For students?”  
Zayn shrugged. “Yeah, but no one’s here. All the roads are closed.”  
“If you could just tell me where it is, I could maybe Google something—”  
Zayn finally turned to look at Liam, having gotten control of himself again. “Are you gonna break in there and try to fix your phone?”  
“Anything’s possible if you Google it.” Liam shrugged. “I’m good with my hands.”  
Zayn could feel his cheeks growing warm again. “Sorry, no. All locked up.”  
“And you don’t have the key?”  
___ _ _

___“No.” Zayn’s eyes met Liam’s, the casualness of the comment finally cutting through the overwhelming attraction. “I don’t work here.”  
Zayn was getting tired of everyone at this school assuming he was on scholarship. Because he was brown. Because his clothes weren’t that expensive. Because he was always studying.  
_ _ _

___“Oh.” Liam’s lips twisted, like he was trying to conjure up a respectable answer. “I just thought--why are you here by yourself?”  
Zayn sighed. “I made friends with the librarian.”  
“The librarian.” Liam’s eyes had turned liquid, and that grin was threatening to take up his whole face again. “You made friends. With _the librarian.” _  
“We can’t all be quarterbacks. Here.” Zayn handed Liam another mug. The Keurig thing is in the cabinet. He stepped around him. “Milk’s in the fridge.”  
“I’m just impressed.” Liam said, his voice holding that same lilt of tease again. “I never thought librarians even made friends. All the librarian ever did was tell me to stop taking my girlfriend in the stacks.”  
“Oh God.” _Straight people. _“That was you?”  
Liam leaned into the fridge to get the milk, and Zayn was suddenly astonished by the tightness of his sweatpants around his ass. They clung in all the right places, the fabric straining—  
_Pull it together. _  
“Don’t worry.” Liam’s head was almost fully in the fridge, so his voice came out a little muffled. “It won’t happen again. She just dumped me.”  
“Over Christmas?” Zayn tried to sound concerned. He really tried.  
“Over voicemail.” Liam emerged. “If you can believe that.”  
“How long were y’all dating?”  
“Four years. Since freshman year of high school.”  
“Did she say why?”  
“She just said we were growing apart, and we both deserved better.”  
“Oh.” Typically, Zayn avoided sharing his observations on romance with other people. Most found it irritating that he made snap assumptions, particularly since he’d been with exactly two people in his entire life, none of whom had ever so much as hinted at a second date.  
But apparently, Liam was a direct bypass to all of Zayn’s impulse control. “She’s seeing someone else.” He said.  
“She’s seeing someone else.” Liam agreed. “One of my friends told me.” He cast his eyes down, his eyelashes dark against his cheeks. “Pathetic, I know.”  
“Nah.” Zayn reached forward and ran his thumb down Liam’s chin, right where the dimple rested. Liam glanced up at him, his mouth open.  
Zayn pulled his hand away, panic coursing through him. _God what the hell is wrong with me? _“So.” He said, trying to achieve some semblance of normalcy. “Got any plans for the holidays?”  
“My mom’s coming to get me tomorrow.” Liam shrugged. “Sophia—my ex—was supposed to drive me home, but then—the storm—”  
‘So you’re stranded.”  
“You could say that.”  
Zayn held out his arms wide, like he was a ringmaster at a circus. Maybe he was terrified of how much Liam was making him feel, maybe he’d done so many awkward things that he wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but Liam was still looking at him with that same curious smirk.  
And it was a full on snowstorm outside.  
“Good thing I’m an excellent tour guide.” Zayn said._________ _ _


	3. Lights Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn leads Liam on a tour of the library. The power might be out, but the tension is as hot as ever.

  
“So, this is the fifth floor.”

  
“Dusty.” Liam said, trying not to sound rude. He couldn’t help it. He could see the dust motes floating in the air, making his nose itch. Not to mention the musty smell. “What’s on this floor?”  
“Historical documents, scientific journals.” Oh, and some of the better study spots.” Zayn walked through, seemingly unfazed by Liam’s discomfort.  
Liam looked around. “You actually like it here?”  
Zayn paused. “Yeah. It’s a nice place to think. To be alone?”  
“Why would you want to be alone?” Liam wondered aloud. “Being alone sucks.”  
Zayn shrugged, casting his eyes downward.  
He stepped on ahead, deeper into the shelves that extended out from the elevators and the bathrooms in every direction.  
  
Liam paused, unsure if he’d offended. He hadn’t meant to. He was just so upset about Sophia, about the glaring loneliness staring him in the face—about being alone on Christmas. How could anyone do this on purpose?  
  
They walked on in silence, down one of the stacks. As they walked, their motion activated the lights, which guided their path. The effect was slightly unsettling—Liam couldn’t help but feel like they were disturbing something—the motes of dust caught in the air, the echoing noise their steps and breathing made across the swelling silence.  


  
At the end of the stacks, Zayn made a sharp left, leading Liam to a set of study carrels, pushed against a wide window that looked out over the rest of the campus. From their view, they could see the thoroughfare by the science buildings.  
A single black cat had emerged into the snow, testing it warily, meowing every few steps.  
Zayn still didn’t say anything, just watched the cat silently. Liam, beside him, said, “I heard about these. My roommate’s a biology major. Apparently, there’s a whole family that the science department has been feeding for generations. I hope they’re warm—I don’t think it ever normally snows here, so I guess—”  
“I like being alone because otherwise I have to put on a show for people.”  
Liam took a step back. “Look, I didn’t mean to—”  
But there seemed to be no stopping him. He was still looking at the cats, but his speech picked up in cadence, like he was afraid that if he stopped talking, none of the words would come out, “You ever feel like you’re always putting on a show? Like you’re just following the protocol for how to act—Should I add a gesture here? Should I say these words? How does one communicate with another college student—how does one make small talk? Sometimes I feel like a Vulcan trying to learn Earth customs, trying desperately to blend in—I never quite get it. I always say the wrong thing, or don’t react the right way, and they can tell—” He stopped suddenly, and Liam waited a moment for prompting him to continue.  
“Tell what?”  
“That I’m different. That I’m just pretending, and they’re all doing it because it’s natural. And when I’m by myself, there isn’t anyone wondering what the Hell I am. There isn’t anyone trying to figure out why I’m so off-putting.” Zayn stopped and sighed. “It’s just easier being alone.”  
Liam stepped closer to him, so that their hips were touching. He could feel Zayn’s warmth through the fabric. “Are you pretending right now?”  
Zayn looked up at him, and Liam was struck again by how beautiful he was. How he looked so much like a painting come to life, with his gold-flecked eyes and his dark hair.  
Zayn took a deep breath, and Liam felt it. He leaned down, his lips about to brush Zayn’s, with no idea what he was doing, his heart hammering in his chest, time suspended….  
  
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.  
Zayn turned away, and the moment burst. “Severe weather warning,” he said. “As if that wasn’t—”  
There was a boom, and a whooshing noise. Then the lights went out.

  
The only light was the glow from Zayn’s phone. Liam’s eyes sought it out desperately, tracing the lines of Zayn’s face in reassurance. “Zayn?”  
"Right here.” A hand fumbled its way into his, and for a moment, Liam was the tiniest bit thankful that the power had gone out.  
“Should we call someone?”  
“Yeah, I—shit.” Zayn squinted at his phone. “No service. You—oh”  
“Dead rectangle.” Liam reminded.  
“So we’re basically stuck with no heat and no electricity until this resolves itself.”  
“Yep.”  
“And we’re in a snowstorm.”  
“Yep.”  
“Great.” Zayn let out a puff of air and sighed. “My phone’s on like, 5%”.  
Liam didn’t say a word. _Let it snow _, he thought, like a forbidden wish, Zayn’s hand still wound tightly in his. _Let it snow _.____

___***  
It turned out that, even though Florence was probably old enough to have seen the events of the pre-electric era, she had very little in the way of analog technology.  
“How is there not a single goddamn candle in here?” Zayn rummaged through her office drawers, shuffling his way through sheaves of official-looking documents and the occasional gum wrapper. “I hate her.”  
“What about the other workers?” Zayn got the feeling that Liam was relatively unbothered by this scenario, which was supremely irritating. While Liam cheerfully followed him around, Zayn’s mind was making lists and planning survival strategies, wondering if this was going to be like the movie The Day After Tomorrow.  
And Liam had just squeezed Zayn’s hand and held it, until Zayn’s harsh breathing returned to normal. Until he’d ventured the idea to look through Florence’s office, because “if anyone has illegal candles stashed, it’s her.”  
“Is there anyone at your office that, you know—” Liam made a motion with his hands, but it was hard to see in the light from Zayn’s phone.  
“Huh?”  
“Anyone that seems high a lot?”  
“No one smokes weed in the library, if that’s what you’re asking—”  
“No I just mean,” Liam let out an exasperated breath. “If they smoked at all, they might have candles to help disguise the smell. Incense, hipster shit like that.”  
“You know, Emily does have an essential oil diffuser.” Zayn said slowly. “And her boyfriend, Artorious, is a vegan.”  
“You had me at Artorious. Where is her office?”  
“She shares it with Olivia, on the first floor.” Zayn took his phone out of his pocket, and reached for Liam's hand. Liam, not expecting the pull, accidentally fell forward, right into Zayn’s chest. Zayn started to topple, so Liam grabbed him by the shoulders and righted him. _ _ _

___  
Zayn could feel Liam’s breath stirring the hair across his forehead. His phone shined uselessly to the side, projecting their shadows on the wall.  
“Sorry.” Liam said.  
“Me too.”  
“We going?”  
Zayn opened his mouth, then closed it. He could taste Liam’s breath, taste the remaining few inches between them. He closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure.  
“Beautiful,” Liam said softly, so softly that Zayn wouldn’t have heard him at all if he hadn’t been standing so close.  
“What?”  
“I—uh—the staircase is over by the elevators, right?” Liam stepped back, pulling his hand out of Zayn’s and running a hand through his hair.  
  
“Yeah.” Zayn turned away, feeling curiously rejected. Before he could try to process what had happened, Liam was already disappearing down the stacks. Zayn stumbled over a desk and following him, trying to feel his way along the walls.  
  
Liam started to slow down, perhaps realizing for the first time that as the source of light, and a tour guide, Zayn should go first. He stepped aside, and Zayn went on ahead.  
  
He tried not to be creeped out by the library at night. The shadowy stacks, the way the light hit the walls, the fact that some of the stuff here was probably older than the country….it was all a little too much like the beginning of a horror movie.  
  
“Here.” He pulled open a gleaming glass door and gestured to the staircase. He and Liam stepped down it, one after the other. Zayn could feel Liam’s breath on his shoulder.  
The staircase opened onto a concrete floor, and then it was another turn before the door to the first floor appeared. Emily’s office was where the old writing center had set up. The glass door opened onto a maze of beige-carpeted corridors, each leading to a private study room until they finally shifted into offices.  
  
Emily’s was all the way at the end of the hall, and now that Zayn thought about it, there had been an odd smell coming from it for the last few months.  
  
When they arrived at her door, decorated with cutsie ‘wander’ stickers and drawings of sunflowers, Zayn realized what they were missing.  
“I don’t have a key!” he ran the hand that wasn’t holding his phone through his hair. She and the janitor have the only copies, and—”  
“WHACK!”  
Liam kicked, and Emily’s door swung open, banging into the wall with a thud.  
“I’ve always wanted to do that.” Liam laughed.  
Zayn looked at Liam, the light illuminating him from his chin upward. “I can’t believe you just did that!”  
“Yeah.” Liam looked suddenly unsure. “I’m really sorry about the door. I’ll pay for—”  
But Zayn had already burst out laughing. “Whatever.” He said. “I never even liked that door.” _And that was hot. _“Let’s go in.”  
  
Emily’s office did smell strongly of incense, as Liam had predicted. She had a few candles left out on her desk, and Zayn grabbed those while Liam rummaged through her drawers.  
  
“Don’t you think this is a little—invasive?” Zayn asked.  
Liam squinted, trying to use the light of the phone to see into the back of the drawer. “Well, yes…” He pulled out a string of glimmering foil-covered squares. “I do believe it is.”  
“Liam! Put those back!” Zayn snapped, even though part of his mind had gone down a very different corridor, one that ended in several of those condoms being put to use.  
“One’s blueberry-flavored!” Liam said, but he placed them carefully back in the drawer.  
Zayn put his hand over his eyes. This was so embarrassing. And so stupid. And God, now he was thinking about just forgetting their mission and pinning Liam against a wall right here, in this girl’s office.  
_Fuck. __  
“Did you find lighters?”  
“Got ‘em!” Liam held up a lighter with a sunflower splashed on it, and flicked it to life.  
“Okay. Good.” The tiny room suddenly felt even more claustrophobic, and the proximity to Liam was doing something to Zayn’s brain. They needed to get somewhere less tight, less intimate, or he was going to do something inadvisable and drastic….  
“Let’s get out of here.”  
“Where?” Liam had stepped incredibly close to Zayn again, and he was sure that it was all going to be over either way, sure that, however this snowstorm ended, he would never be the same.  
Liam smelled like old spice and sweat, and a tiny bit of strawberries.  
And Zayn was starting to think there was no stopping this.  
He grabbed Liam’s hand and yanked him down the hallway.____ _ _


	4. We Could Be Skywalkers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zayn takes Liam to the Skywalk. (Hint: Blueberry).

“So this is the Skywalk? Like in Star Wars?” Liam placed the candles on the ground, and Zayn handed him the lighter. Liam simply placed it beside the candles—where they were, the Sun lent plenty of light, and they’d need them for the evening anyway.  
  
“Thank you for saying that. I’ve been telling them all year.” Zayn stepped around the candles to the middle of the Skywalk, where a sketchpad and a backpack were propped against the wall.  
  
“Telling who?”  
  
“Florence.” Zayn waved a hand. “The head of the libraries. People”  
  
“Do you work here?”  
  
“No I just—they’re nice people.” Zayn said. “They leave me alone.”  
  
Liam tipped his head to the side, but he didn’t say anything. Zayn was already kneeling down next to the backpack, shuffling the papers beside it. He seemed to be trying not to bend any of them.  
Liam looked out the windows. It really did give the impression that one was walking across the sky, suspended in the air. The Sun was beginning to set, the clouds having been swept away for now, and the snow sparkled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much snow before,” he said.  
  
Across the plaza, there was a group of students throwing snowballs back and forth. The sight was jarring—something about the power outage, about running around through the library’s darkened corridors with Zayn, had made Liam forget that they probably weren’t the only people on campus today.  
The only people left in the world.  
  
Out here in the open, the Sun made the golden highlights in Zayn’s hair stand out. He was still shoving his papers into his bag, but one slipped out before he could stop it.  
“What’s that?” Liam snatched it from the ground and held it up to the light. It was upside down—“Wait—”  
  
It was a photo of two boys, both in dark robes. One had light brown hair, the other was an icy blonde. The dark-haired boy was waving his wand lazily through the air, while the icy blonde curled his lip in a sneer. _“’Scared, Potter?’ ‘You wish,’ _The caption read. ”  
Before Liam could ask any questions, Zayn had snatched the drawing out of his hands nd stuffed it in his bag.  
  
“Wait! That was really good!” Liam held out his hand. “Was that Harry Potter?”  
  
Zayn was still looking down at his bag, meticulously rearranging the papers. He grunted something noncommittal.  
  
“Seriously, Zayn.” Liam said gently. “I really liked it. Can I see more?”  
  
“You don’t—mind?”  
  
“Mind?” Liam was bewildered. “Why would a drawing bother me?”  
  
“It’s just—it’s fanart. And it’s—” Zayn’s eyes flicked to Liam’s from a moment. “I write them together.”  
  
“What, you mean romantically?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Are you asking me if I have a problem with gay people?” Liam felt a curious sensation in his gut. What made Zayn ask that? How could he—when they’d been so close in that room—when they’d almost…  
And with a sudden burst of realization, Liam realized that since Zayn had waved him into the library, he’d hardly thought about Sophia at all.  
  
He certainly didn’t care to think about her right now, with Zayn looking at him like that. He’d finally plucked up the courage to look into Liam’s eyes, and his expression was defiant and vulnerable. He bit his lip. “Yeah, I guess I am.” Zayn said. “Because if you are, then I think—”  
  
Liam took a step forward so that their chests touched. The top of Zayn’s hand came just to Liam’s chin, and he’d have to lean down for this.  
Liam grasped Zayn’s chin, his fingers curling around his jaw.  
Zayn went still.  
Liam brushed a thumb across Zayn’s cheek, and the other boy let out this massive sigh, one that Liam felt all the way to his feet.  
  
__

__And then they were kissing.  
Shoved up against the skywalk, Liam’s hands working beneath Zayn’s sweatshirt, over the smooth skin of his back. Zayn’s skin was warm and smooth, and Liam could feel this calluses scrape over Zayn’s back.  
Zayn kissed the way he spoke—in fits and starts. He’d pull away for a moment to snatch air, then plunge in, and he was everywhere, moving his mouth to Liam’s jaw, his eyelashes brushing Liam’s cheek.  
Liam let out a groan as Zayn nipped at his neck, and he’d never thought it would be like this, this was heaven, the Sun in his eyes, warmth and light completely surrounding him, floating in midair.  
Liam gripped Zayn by the cheeks and pulled him in again, kissing him softer this time, letting his lips linger, his tongue licking across Zayn’s bottom lip.  
  
Liam’s eyes were closed, but he felt the light lessen, and realized that Zayn had pulled him into the Annex’s stairwell. They were on the landing which led to the spiral staircase, which extended all the way down through the tower.  
Liam’s sweatpants, once loose, had become painfully tight.  
  
“Fuck, Zayn.” Liam could hardly breathe, but he kept forcing the air in and out. He couldn’t think about anything, see anything, but the boy in front of him, his lips puffy, panting as he knelt before Liam, fumbling at his pants.  
  
“Wait—Wait.” Liam said, and Zayn immediately sat back, his eyes suddenly wide and afraid. “I’m so sorry-I thought you wanted--”  
  
“Shhh.” Liam knelt down next to him and pulled something from the side pocket of his sweatpants.  
  
“You have got to be kidding me.”  
  
“It’s blueberry flavored.”  
  
And Zayn laughed, softer than he had before. Ligther. Liam got the impression that Zayn didn’t laugh like this often, that he was being treated to something privileged, precious, irreplaceable, and he knelt to catch Zayn’s lips in his so he could taste that laughter in his mouth, so that he could make this last a little longer.  
  
Zayn took the condom out of Liam’s hand. “Lay down,” Zayn bit on Liam’s earlobe, making Liam gasp a curse.  
  
He did so, and Zayn wasted no time. He pushed Liam’s sweatshirt up, kissing all the way up his abs, inching his sweatpants down until he was fully exposed. Everywhere Zayn touched him seared with desire, and it had never been like this before, never like this; Liam felt like his skin would burn off if Zayn stopped touching him, and he was so fucking close.  
  
Liam closed his eyes, trying to keep control, trying not to explode all over Zayn before he’d even had a chance to place that lovely, warm mouth around his dick.  
  
Zayn rolled the condom on and spread the lube up and down Liam’s dick, then got to work massaging his balls, working the shaft in inch by inch, until Liam could feel his dick scrape the back of Zayn’s throat.  
  
Liam shuddered. “Jesus-fuck.”  
  
Zayn started to bob his head up and down, and Liam was sure this was how he’d die, like this, his heart about to burst in his chest, the imprints of sunlight in his eyes. Zayn moaned, and Liam’s vision went white…_ _

____

____

“So, how was the blueberry?” Liam asked.  
Zayn’s head was pillowed on Liam’s naked chest. He was breathing slowly, and Liam was delighted to just watch the steady rise and fall of his chest, the wonder of what they’d done, of how amazing it had felt…  
  
In answer, Zayn reached up and kissed Liam, making sure he got the entire taste in his mouth.  
Liam kissed him harder, his hand creeping around to cup Zayn’s bottom and flip them, so that Liam straddled Zayn. He placed kisses all the way down Zayn’s neck, hovering over the tattoos that decorated his collarbones, and Zayn was gasping and writhing beneath him, Liam suddenly becoming hard again, grinding his naked body against Zayn’s.  
> “Tell me—” Zayn gasped, as Liam sucked hickies onto his ribs. “Tell me you took more of those condoms.”  
  
Zayn felt Liam’s smile against his skin. “I took all of them.”  
  
“Shit.” Zayn said, as Liam reached down and undid his pants, his mouth already tracing a path. Zayn bucked his hips upward helplessly, desperate for relief.  
Liam pinned him down with a hand, yanking until he threw Zayn’s pants off to the side, then his boxers, until Zayn was laid bare before him.  
Then Liam stopped.  
  
“Liam?” Zayn was practically trembling with want, desperate for more. “Please fuck me.”  
  
Liam smiled, and his eyes went dark. He kissed Zayn, tugging on his lip with his teeth. “Shh baby.” He whispered. “I’ll take care of you.”  
  
Zayn felt one of Liam’s fingertips nudging at his puckered hole, and he hissed as it penetrated him. Liam had slicked up his fingers in lube from the condoms, but it was still a tight fit.  
“Is this okay?” Liam’s voice was low and soft. “Let me know if it hurts.”  
  
“It’s—Zayn bit Liam’s shoulder to stop himself from screaming. “More, please.”  
  
Liam inserted another finger and scissored them inside Zayn, and it was too much, Zayn felt like he was going to burst apart, break from the inside out.  
And when Liam leaned in, adding his tongue and lips, Zayn let go entirely. 

***  
Zayn wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep. He wasn’t even sure when he’d fallen asleep, exactly. He and Liam had been kissing slowly, languidly, after—well, he wasn’t even sure how many times, or how long.  
  
He just knew that his back and knees ached, and he was ravenous.  
And it had suddenly gotten extremely cold.  
Zayn groped around in the darkness, finally locating his phone. It was at 3%, but somehow miraculously still working.  
2 am.  
  
_Merry Christmas _, Zayn thought, his heart sinking at the sight of the blank screen. He’d hoped that they would have wanted to see him for the holiday at least. Hoped Christmas would make his father see reason.  
  
But he should have known not to be so foolish. Christmas was just another day, and soon the snow would be gone, and it would all be over.  
  
Zayn checked the weather updates. It looked like the snow would let up overnight, and then they’d be able to leave in the morning. The power was already in the process of being restored.  
Zayn looked over at Liam, sleeping peacefully beside him. He’d thrown on his clothes again, and he was curled in a ball, his lips soft and pink. As Zayn watched, Liam’s nose twitched, and he scratched at it absently.  
  
_Is this what love feels like? _, Zayn wondered. He’d never felt like this before. Never been content to just watch someone sleep, to be utterly delighted in the movement of a hand, the flicker of an eyelid, to wish never to be parted from a moment…  
  
_What is happening to me? _  
  
There was no way this would last. Liam was way out of his league. This was purely circumstantial. They were stranded, and there was no one else around, and hadn’t Liam just broken up with a girl?______

_____ _

_____ _

Zayn felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want this to end.  
But he knew that Liam would be gone in the morning.  
He climbed around Liam, rummaging until he found his clothes and shrugged them back on. Maybe Liam would be the one walking away, another one night stand under his belt, maybe this would fuck Zayn up for the rest of his life, but at least he’d get to leave first.  
At least he wouldn’t be the one left 

  
It looked like the power wasn’t entirely out already. A streetlight outside cast a ray of light across the edge of Liam’s sleeping form, and Zayn’s fingers itched at the sight.  
Maybe just one more moment…  
He tiptoed back across the Skywalk until he’d found his sketchpad and a stick of charcoal, and then he crept, ever so quietly, back to where Liam slept.  
Maybe he’d never see Liam again, maybe this had all been a fever-dream, brought on by stress and isolation.  
Maybe he would never have anything as precious in his life as this moment.  
Zayn had to remember it. He had to capture the way the streetlight highlighted the curves of Liam’s legs, pushing through the fabric. The expression of soft bliss on his face. The way that Zayn felt as he looked at him, like all he’d ever wanted was contained in a single person, a single night.  
Zayn would remember this forever.  
  
Right now, they were in the night-empty sky.  
Only the morning could bring them back to Earth.


	5. Daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's morning, and the snow is beginning to melt. Can Liam and Zayn survive the daylight?
> 
> It's been real y'all. I have no doubt I'll be writing even more fics in quarantine, so keep your eyes peeled (I may have posted one last night already). Stay safe and check on your neighbors.

Liam woke up alone, with sunlight streaming through the windows. Someone, presumably Zayn, had thrown a bright red blanket over him in the night, and he was snuggled into it.

Liam got up, stretching, hunting around for his phone before remembering the events of the previous night.

His phone was broken, and Zayn had taken him inside the library, and…

_Zayn._

Where was he?

Where was his phone?

They’d been up on the skywalk, and it was definitely in his pocket then. But afterwards, things were far too hazy.

He remembered it in flashes…

Zayn’s teeth nipping at his throat...

The taste of blueberries in his mouth…

Liam closed his eyes, savoring the memories. He felt—good. He hadn’t felt this good since…

But where was Zayn?

Liam envisioned him emerging from across the Skywalk, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand and that hesitant grin on his face. Zayn had seemed so shy at first, but Liam had quickly learned that the last thing Zayn could be described as was shy.

They’d fallen asleep with Zayn’s head pillowed on Liam’s chest, Liam tracing patterns on his shoulders until he lulled himself to sleep.

Liam rolled over and disentangled himself from the blanket. It had been wrapped around his legs, making it somewhat difficult to stand.

“Zayn?” Liam called tentatively, his voice echoing slightly in the stairwell. “Zayn?” he tried again, when there was no response.

He staggered to his feet, hunting around for his phone. It was a broken rectangle, but it might still be able to turn on.

He held the home button and the lock button, careful not to touch the cracks that spiderwebbed across the surface. To his surprise, the Apple logo appeared, and his phone blinked on.

And then started vibrating.

And didn’t stop.

Messages from Sophia, from his Mom. Even a couple from his sister, Ruth. Voicemails.

Liam listened to the first.

_“Hi Liam, it’s me. Just trying to get you again. The roads are open so I’m heading up there. I really hope you’re okay. Please call me when you get this.”_

Liam tapped carefully and dialed.

“Liam?” his mother’s voice was breathless and worried. “What the Hell happened to you? Were you hurt?”

“No—I was—my phone broke, and I fell asleep.”

“You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“I’m so sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

His mother started talking, no doubt reprimanding him for being so stupid as to get his phone broken in the first place, but Liam had stopped listening.

Someone was standing out in the fresh snow, squinting up at the Skywalk. 

And Liam’s blood had turned cold.

“I’ll be at the library when you get here. My phone’s not working, so that’s where you can find me. I have to go.”

He dashed down the spiral staircase, his heart in his throat.

***

Zayn saw the girl approach from atop the Skywalk. He was perfecting the edges of his drawing, emphasizing the curve of Liam’s jaw, the way his long eyelashes cast a shadow on his cheeks.

She had dark brown hair, escaping from the confines of her hat. Her clothes dripped expense—everything she wore looked brand new, like she was getting ready for an Instagram shoot instead of a day outside.

Something about her presence unsettled Zayn. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was this terrible sense of dread in his stomach.

He knew that whatever dream had emerged with Liam, whatever had happened in the night, was burning away.

And this beautiful girl was the herald of the daylight.

When Liam emerged, practically bounding across the snow toward her, Zayn’s gut twisted.

The drawing dropped from his nerveless fingers to settle on the floor, like a leaf falling.

He’d never met her, but he knew exactly who she was.

When Liam got to her, he put both hands on either side of her face. Zayn wanted so badly to look away, but he dug his fingernails into his palms. He forced himself to keep watching, because some part of him was still clinging to hope.

Some part of him thought he’d find Liam in that stairwell, and he’d bring him a cup of coffee and a muffin, and Liam would kiss him with the crumbs still sticking to his lips…

Some part of Zayn hadn’t burned out with the dawn. It might be there forever, if he didn’t get rid of it now.

If he didn’t kill what had grown as he’d sketched Liam, if he didn’t sear the feeling right out of him, burn it like the drawing on the floor, how could he be so stupid, so foolish to hope, to think that someone like Liam would ever want someone like him?

Liam didn’t kiss the girl, and for that Zayn was grateful. He was already nearly crying by the way he held her, the tenderness in his touch. He had grasped her wrists with his hands, and she was saying something, whispering urgently.

Liam tilted his head toward hers.

As Zayn watched, they started back inside.

In a moment, he heard them emerge through the automatic doors. He heard the screeching of chairs, the rustling as they sat.

“---Glad you’re alright,” the girl was saying. “Your mom called me, she wanted to know if I was with you. She didn’t know we broke up--”

“I was going to tell her,” Liam interrupted. “There was just so much going on.”

The girl made a ‘tsk’ noise. “Well, I decided to come up here to make sure you were okay.”

Liam snorted, and Zayn felt a surge of approval. “Why do you care?”

“Because we loved each other, Liam. Some part of me will always love you.” Her voice had softened, but Zayn still heard it clearly.

Liam’s reply was even lower, and then there were noises that showed the conversation had ended.

Zayn stood, walking across the skywalk to the library. He kept walking, his eyes burning, the sketchbook clutched in his hand, all the way across the first floor stacks. He took a sharp left turn and clattered down the flight of stairs, all the way to the collection of couches ensconced on the first floor.

And only when he’d found a couch far in the back, when he was sure he was alone, when he’d put four floors between himself and Liam Payne, did he finally allow himself to succumb to tears.

***

“Some part of me will always love you,” Sophia said it softly, but Liam knew her too well to doubt her conviction. Knew her down to her nails, filed down so that she could still work out but keep them manicured. Knew her down to the freckles that smattered across her noise and those wide green eyes.

He remembered the first time she’d said it. They were sitting in his car, talking about _The Hunger Games,_ and she’d just blurted it out, as Liam was going on a tangent about wilderness survival tactics.

Her hands had flown to cover her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say it like that,” she mumbled from behind them.

Liam remembered that swelling feeling in his chest, the sensation that she’d hurled them both off the edge of a cliff. No one had ever been in love with him before.

And he knew, in that moment, that he loved her back.

Kissing her in that car, he’d never have dreamed she’d cheat. He’d never have dreamed that this would end.

“I love you, too.” He said now, with none of the tenderness he’d given that first time. This time the words were an accusation. He watched as they traced scorch marks across her face.

_I love you, so how could you do this? How could you hurt me like this?_

“I’m sorry for what I did. But Liam, I didn’t come here to win you back.”

She tugged his hands away from her face.

Liam dropped them and sat back on the couch, his heart sinking. “Then why are you here? You didn’t have to come see me?”

She looked at him helplessly. “I don’t know. I just—I care about you.”

Liam bit his lip. “You don’t get to care about me anymore, Sophia. If I’m ever going to get past this, move on—move on with someone else—you have to let me go.”

She shook her head. “That isn’t what I wanted. I wanted us to be friends at least.”

“We were in love. That’s not how it works.” Liam set his jaw. “I can’t be friends with the first person I ever loved. I’ll always care about you, I’ll always hope you’re okay—but—”

“We aren’t meant to be in each other’s lives anymore.” Sophia was nodding along with him. “We don’t love each other.”

“Yes I do.”

“Liam—” Sophia smiled out of the corner of her mouth, just the way he liked it. “Who were you with last night?”

“I wasn’t—”

“Please, I know you better than anyone.”

“It wasn’t to make you mad. To get back at you.” 

Sophia sighed. “No, Liam. You have proven over and over again that you are a far better person than me.”

Liam huffed, but didn’t say anything.

They sat there in silence for a while, and Liam could feel the gulf widening between them.

And for the first time, he truly began to see what Sophia meant. Where he’d clung to the past, to that couple in the car, he’d been forgetting the present. 

And now he remembered. The long stretches of awkward silence on the phone. The times he’d wanted to tell her something, but suddenly been unsure how she’d react. When she would see him, and her hair would be different, or she’d be a little thinner, and he’d wonder how many other subtle changes she’d gone through.

He was in love with the Sophia from chemistry class. The Sophia who flicked paper wads at him and convinced him to skip Photojournalism and eat Big Macs in the bleachers. The Sophia who’d made love to him in her parents’ car for the first time, and cried whenever a contestant got eliminated on the Bachelor.

The Sophia who had wrapped her arms around him the night before move-in, and already felt like she was slipping away.

“Do you ever think we could have made it?”

Sophia was silent for a long time. “I don’t know if we were ever meant to.”

She put her head on his shoulder, and Liam ran his fingers through her hair. “We were always meant to be something.” Liam said, his heart finally, for the first time, snapping into a clean break.

Sophia nodded.

They sat there for a while, the Sun warming the room around them. With it, all of the pain started to disappear. And the light continued through it, turning it all to golden acceptance.

Liam started to cry, the tears dripping down the end of his nose and down his cheeks. But they weren’t sad tears. It was a catharsis, the release of all those questions, the feeling that he’d never be alright again, that nothing would ever be the same.

Things were changing, but it wasn’t for the worse.

And there was a boy somewhere in this library, a boy with gold-flecked eyes and the softest lips imaginable, a boy who surprised him and amazed him all at once…

Maybe it would all end the way Sophia had, with heartbreak and betrayal, with the stunning realization that growing apart was no one’s fault, that they’d only been delaying the inevitable, that even that which had seemed solid and immovable would, eventually, melt like snow in the Sun…

But he wouldn’t give up until the last of the ice had melted.

Liam sat up, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Do you mind if I--?”

Sophia kissed his cheek. “Go get ‘em.”

***

Zayn had plugged in his phone to a text message from Louis. Something about Harry singing tonight at a little coffee shop, open mic night for poetry, art gallery openings.

Zayn tapped out of the conversation without replying. Louis would hang him for leaving him on read later, but he couldn’t think about that now.

He was trying not to cry, but as the hours ticked by, he couldn’t help imagining Liam and his girlfriend on that couch. Their foreheads pressed together, wrinkled like they were overcoming some insane obstacle. Their lips would touch, and Zayn would be an experiment, a distant memory, a sudden lapse in the perfect life of the quarterback…

At first, Zayn thought he was hallucinating.

It wasn’t until his mother sat across from him and took his hand that he realized this was real, that she was here on Christmas.

“Mom?” Zayn choked out, and she pulled him in without a word. “Hello, sunshine,” she whispered, and this broke the dam inside of him, and he sobbed into her chest like a child, heavy, heaving sobs that showed no indication of stopping.

She shushed and rocked him through it, stroking his hair like she used to when he was little. “It’s okay, _joonam._ I’m here now. It’s going to be okay.”

After a few long moments, Zayn pulled away and took a few deep breaths, wiping away the last of his tears with the back of his hand. His mother took a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the snot that had accumulated from his nose.

Zayn, suddenly embarrassed , took the handkerchief from her and wiped off himself. 

“What are you doing here?”

“There was a snowstorm last night! And you didn’t answer your phone!”

“Sorry.” Zayn glanced at the screen, just now remembering the missed calls he’d swiped past. “My phone died.”

“We were worried about you.” His mother said. “All of us.” She added, when Zayn raised an eyebrow. 

“Did you talk to Dad?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“You need to talk to him.”

Zayn ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not going to give up art, Mom. I can’t—it’s—it’s my soul, you know? It’s the thing that makes me sure I’m a person.”

“I didn’t ask you to give up your art.”

“But he does. He wants me to do what will make us money.”

“Your father arrived in this country with one hundred dollars in his pocket. He was spat on every day by people who wished he had stayed home, who called him dirty and disgusting and worse. He knows what it is to have people see you as that low. He wants you to be able to get what you need regardless of what people say. You may sneer at money, Zayn, but it is like armor. Every little disaster hurts a lot less when you always know where your next meal is coming from.”

“And what if I make money at it? Will that be enough?”

His mother sighed. “Call him, Zayn. Please. He is—he loves you very much. This is tearing him apart. Please.”

So Zayn called.

“Zayn?”

“Dad?”

Zayn had been prepared for his father’s stern voice, for a half-apology. Something along the lines of “I am sorry that you were hurt by my superior judgement.’

He wasn’t prepared for the broken speech on the other end.

“I should never have kicked you out, Zayn.”

Zayn was speechless.

His father went on. “It is not my job as a father to give you the life I had. It is to give you the ability to choose a life for yourself. And I—I am worried that you will struggle. I am afraid for you, Zayn. The world is so hard, and even harder for an artist. But come home, please. I love you. I need my son. Come home.”

“So you’re okay with it? Just like that?”

“Waliyha has shown me some artists on Instagram. They are very talented. This could be a good way for you to get—influence, yes?”

Zayn couldn’t believe what was happening. “Did she show you my page?”

“She said that you would want to show it to me yourself—”

Zayn tapped a few buttons. “Click the link.”

There was a long pause on the other end.

His father’s voice finally came through, choked up and warbly. “You are blessed, Zayn. To have talent like this. I should have listened. I should have not been so blinded by fear.”

“So I can come home?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes, Dad. Yes. I will—I am coming home.”

“Good. Put your mother on.”

Zayn handed his mother the phone, and she stood and walked away, talking quietly.

Zayn sat back and wiped his eyes, trying to take in the situation.

In one night, everything had changed.

How had it been so easy? His problems, all the obstacles, the pit in his stomach, had curiously lifted.

It had just taken a snowstorm, a power outage.

A boy with gorgeous muscles and a smile that crinkled his whole face…

_Liam…_

Zayn bit his lip. He wouldn’t let a boy ruin this. He wouldn’t let this one night stand, the sight of Liam with his girlfriend, destroy the happiness blossoming in his chest.

He looked down at the drawing. He should throw it away. He shouldn’t remember. Remembering would only make it worse.

Zayn swiped a hand across the new tears that had started to form.

And then he was standing there.

Hair ruffled, breathing hard like he’d been running. 

Zayn whispered his name like a prayer. _“Liam?”_

***

“I thought—you may—have gone,” Liam said breathlessly.

Zayn looked different in the morning light. Calmer than he had before, as though some weight had been lifted.

And his eyes were wet.

“Is everything okay?”

Zayn glanced quickly over to where a woman was talking on the phone, a woman with Zayn’s dark hair, and something else about her, perhaps the way she stood, that made Liam certain of who she was.

“Let’s go outside,” Zayn said. He got up quickly and brushed past Liam, still barely looking at him. Liam felt the whisper of his clothing as he swept by, and he wanted to take Zayn’s hand, but he was moving too fast.

Zayn didn’t even look to see if Liam was following, didn’t stop walking until he’d made it through the library’s revolving door and sat down on the steps.

Across from them, the history building stood frozen in its state of reconstruction, wooden panels serving as ramps and the steps glistening with the as-yet un-melted ice.

Even though it was cold outside, most of the snow was gone. Only a few lingering patches in the shade remained, and Liam knew it would probably the last time in years it ever snowed in this part of Texas.

But he couldn’t think about that now.

All he could think about was Zayn, sitting on the steps, his hands clenched into fists.

Liam sat beside him and moved to put his arm around Zayn, but he flinched away.

“What’s wrong?’

“Look, I won’t tell her anything.” Zayn looked down at the concrete steps, his jaw set in a firm line. “And I’m about to go home with my family, so—”

“What are you talking about? Tell who what?”

Zayn’s lip trembled. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. We were just—cold. And there was nobody better around. It’s really fine.”

“Zayn—look at me.”

“No hard feelings, okay?” Zayn’s voice broke at the end, and he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “We’ll just go our separate ways.”

He stood and started to walk back inside.

Liam sat there for a moment, too stunned to move. Why was Zayn acting like this? Like Liam had broke up with— _oh._

Liam leapt to his feet, skidding on the ice, and sprinted to Zayn, who had just stepped into the revolving door.

Liam shoved his way in between them, so that they were face to face. When the door swung open to the lobby, he blocked it.

“Please let me through.” Zayn said, still not looking at Liam.

“No.”

“Liam—don’t make this a bigger deal than it has to be. It’s obvious what you want.”

“Sophia and I are _not_ back together.”

Zayn snapped his head up, and Liam could see the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He reached up with his thumb and caught one, wiping it on Zayn’s coat. At the gesture, Zayn gave a little gasp, then said, “But I saw you—Liam, if you think I’m going to be your side-piece--.”

“Stop.” Liam said it so forcefully, Zayn’s mouth remained open in a perfect ‘O.’ “I’m not going anywhere, Zayn. And neither are you. I won’t let this—us—just go away.”

Zayn’s lip trembled, and they were both crying now, crying in awe and fear at the feeling that was opening up inside of them. “I—are you sure, Liam? Are you sure you’re ready?”

“No.” Liam said. “I’m fucked up, and I can guess by the way you’re crying that you are too. We barely know a thing about each other. And we both have a lot to work on. And it won’t be magical, and sometimes we’ll push each other away—”

Zayn plunged his fists into his pockets and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Liam tried to reach for it, but he shook his head. “I don’t know if I can do this, Liam. I’ve never felt this way about someone before. What if it all falls apart? What if it isn’t meant to be?”

Zayn unfolded the drawing and held it up so that Liam could see it. Liam felt a chill go up his spine.

No one had ever drawn him so beautifully, so lovingly. Not only was it a near-perfect rendition, but there was something about the way Zayn had drawn the light, something about the picture that was full of longing.

“Zayn—” Liam breathed. He touched the edge of the drawing with his fingertips. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s too much.” Zayn shook his head. “Going any further with you—loving you—it’s too—much.”

“So you’d rather walk away? You’d rather just say, ‘oh well’ and move on?”

Zayn was silent. Liam pressed his advantage.

“We have to try Zayn. There’s so much wonderful out there for us—it has to be worth it. Tell me you wont’ walk away from this.”

Zayn was silent for a long while, and then he finally leaned up on his tiptoes and planted a single, soft kiss on Liam’s lips.

“Fine.” He whispered.

Liam felt his heart swell in his chest. “Fine?”

And then they were kissing, nearly stumbling in the revolving door, the drawing flattened between them.

_Let it snow,_ Liam thought.

_Let it snow._

And even though the snow melted, even though the world restarted, the magic broken as everything went back to normal, Liam and Zayn remained where the snow had brought them: together. 


End file.
